


Bring Earth

by Pyrasaur



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime)
Genre: F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Muteness, Romance, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-25
Updated: 2013-09-25
Packaged: 2017-12-27 14:12:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/979867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyrasaur/pseuds/Pyrasaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While looking for his lost Onix, Brock meets a beautiful girl who won't tell him her name. Actually, she won't say a single word.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bring Earth

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a kinkmeme prompt: _Little Mermaid-style pokemon/trainer. Not a straight retelling, more like a pokemon falls in love with their trainer, becomes human for them, but pays with their voice (or otherwise can't communicate) and can't explain who they are. Happy or sad, however you want to do it. c:_
> 
> Brock's Onix doesn't have a confirmed gender in the original anime, so I've chosen to ignore the dub claim that it's male.

     Must have dropped the Pokeball somewhere, Brock thought in a terror haze. He rechecked every pocket of his backpack, and rechecked again. No Onix. Just that loosening seam he had meant to sew up sometime soon but he hadn't sewn it up right then, he just _hadn't_ , and now his friend was gone. How could he? All those years together, all those times Onix had been there for him and now he had been irresponsible enough to lose his very first Pokemon.

     He must have checked every patch of grass, every gutter in Pewter City. Asked so many people if they had found a Pokeball. They all stared sadly at him and said sorry, son, they hadn't. Pressure was building inside his chest and he barely even saw the faces of the last few people he asked; the last one might have been a girl, but Brock was hurrying away before he even heard her say no.

     And then he was sitting on the riverbank, watching the water burble and feeling hot tears well up. He'd just sit here for a bit. To calm down. And then keep looking for Onix's Pokeball — maybe one of his other Pokemon could help but deciding on one of them was a concept just too huge to grasp.

     Footsteps came toward him, crunching soft on the grass. Brock didn't really notice until the sound was gone, until the person was easing to the ground beside him and shuffling into a sitting position.  
     "Hi," Brock made himself say. His voice flopped pitifully out of him. He looked sideways and caught a glimpse of a dust-coloured pant leg. He rubbed his hand over his eyes and it came away with two wet lines. "I dropped one of my Pokeballs and couldn't find it. So I'm— I'm just a bit worked up right now."  
     The person sat there, quiet.  
     Well, said the calm gradually pooling in Brock, the least he could do was be polite. He looked at the person. It was a girl sitting beside him, one with broad cheekbones and dark eyes, and a tight braid of long brown hair laid over one shoulder, and her lean, muscular arms wrapped around one raised knee. Pretty in a quiet, humble way, like the perfect slope of a hillside. A veritable girl next door. She wasn't watching the river; she was staring at him, lips twitching like she couldn't decide whether to smile for him or frown with him.  
     "I came up to you in the street a few minutes ago," Brock blurted. "Right?"  
     She blinked. And smiled, a crooked, wry smile spreading broad across her face. She nodded.  
     "I'm Brock," he said. "Sorry I didn't remember seeing you before, I just—"  
     She snatched his hand — with a rock-like grip, very commanding — and Brock was dragged to his feet.

     Dragged down the riverbank, over smooth stones and lumps of muddy grass. Dragged into thickening trees, as fast as his feet could keep up, to a sand flat encircled by the river, in the center of willow trees' curtain branches. A Pokeball lay there. A Pokeball cracked in two.  
     The pressure feeling returned, an enormous panic in Brock's chest as he ran to the Pokeball, picked up the pieces and found his scratched-in initials along the edges like he knew he would.  
     "But," he said, "this is—" He slotted the dead halves together, and gripped them, and raked his other hand into his hair. "What happened here? Where is ...?" He looked around but all of the stones were embedded in mud, unmoving.  
     The girl came closer, on footsteps crunching uneasily in the sand.  
     Don't panic, Brock decided. At least Onix got out of the Pokeball somehow. A strong Pokemon could take care of itself in the wild, as opposed to being trapped in a ball with no one to release it.  
     "I just don't know how this happened," he said quiet. "I've never been here ..." He cast another look around at the clearing — it felt even larger than it looked, and it sent a strange tingling over his skin. "And I don't think Onix would choose to come here. She hates water."  
     The girl was at his side again, a solid human presence parting the forest light. Strangeness passed over her face — a wrenching of frustration like bitter food stuck in her throat. But she didn't answer. She lifted a hand to touch the Pokeball, leaving her short-nailed fingers on its scuffed surface for whole seconds. She lifted her hand again — and it hovered in the air between them, undecided. She took her hand back. More strange thought contorting her face and then she stepped closer, and threw her muscle-sleek arms around his neck and commanded him close for a kiss.  
     It was powerful and marvellous, the way they met and danced, this experience so gentle that he had waited endlessly for. And then she pulled away, only as far as her arms would allow. She took Brock's wrist — it had fallen to rest on her soft, soft hip, and he suddenly expected a slap. But she was lifting his hand to show him what he held. The Pokeball, in a near-numb grip. She gazed at him, eyes widening hopeful.  
     "I. I guess it's all going to be okay? Is that what you're trying to tell me?"  
     A pause, while thought jerked at the edges of her mouth. Then she nodded.  
     It felt like the truth. In a light-soaked moment like this, something he had always dreamed of, he could believe that everything was okay and he'd see Onix again, and he might even have a girlfriend for real this time. Brock grinned, and it felt as wobbly as his knees. "Just like a fairy tale. Please, fair maiden. Tell me your name."  
     He got to see her smile, as wide as her face would hold. It quirked wry. She still didn't say a word. 

     She kept his hand in her earth-sure grip while she dragged him up the road toward home. It was the weirdest thing, but she seemed to know the way.


End file.
